I feel like there are some people that no matter how much they might want to care about each other, and might care about each other...cannot make that caring translate into any form of relationship.
"Baby when we're good you know we're great but there's too much bad for us to think that there's anything worth trying to save."
Monday, June 27, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
One Fine Day
A year and a half ago, I found my little Quasimodo Lorax at the shelter, looking hunch-backed, shaggy, beat up, and neglected. Hence the name, Quasimodo. Lorax is for his tendency to sound “Sharpish and bossy.” My mom and I called him our little Ewokorax. Truly, it was a face only a mother could love, or a Buela.
He’d been neglected, mistreated, ignored, and allowed to fall apart. Somehow, he was resilient, as if he knew that the universe wound be bringing me to him soon. For my part, a personal loss left me empty and needing something to love that wanted nothing more from me than unconditional love in return. I knew I wanted an older dog who needed a home, preferably with an under-bite. A snorer would be nothing more than a much wanted plus. And, there he was, looking up at me, wondering where I’d been his whole life. I was wondering the same thing.
In the year and a half since that September day, the little guy blossomed. He went from silently cowering just out of the room to joyfully and noisily skittering around the room, especially the kitchen. The first night I made dinner when he was with me in his forever home, he stayed outside of the kitchen, his eyes looking at me as if he did not know what to think or do but he wasn’t taking them off me, in case it was all just a dream. The last night I made dinner when he was with me in his forever home, he hung out only a few feet away, watching me dance around to Taylor Swift’s “Mine,” which I always sang to him. His sister, my shih tzu, begged shamelessly, but Quasi was smarter. He just waited until I set something down in front of him. As a result, he got the better of the table scraps during the six months I was blessed with two babies.
Quasi feared small children, and barked at my housemate’s young son. We spent a good number of hours last spring trying to convince Quasi that the gentle little boy wouldn’t hurt him, but with no luck. One night in May, a friend of mine was on his way to visit for a couple of days. I was sound asleep, a nightlight on so my friend could see his way around when he arrived. My friend was never a quiet person, and I woke up enough to see him come in my room. Quasi, who barked if a child got within ten yards of me, took one look at the 6’2” All American standing in my room, snorted, and went right back to sleep. I'm thankful it wasn't a robber or a rapist waltzing into my room, because my little Griff would have been no help. The next morning, he got up on the bed with my friend, curled up next to him, and the two of them tried very hard to convince me that noon was way too early to be awake.
He loved, like all Griffs, to lay in the sun and soak up rays. He spent last summer with me at my parents’ house, taking full advantage of their front porch. When he decided he was ready to go in the house, he did that classic Griff head back yoddle, barking at my father and then looking right at the house. My parents were wrapped around his little paws. My brothers, neither of whom cared for indoor dogs, took turns carrying him around, telling him what a great dog he was. My younger brother’s catch phrase was “Mr. Modo, do I find you well?” before picking my baby up and carrying him off. My brother’s girlfriend picked him up and I didn’t get him back until she left. If Quasi saw Auntie, his entire butt began doing the happy wiggle.
My youngest brother is a theater major, and during the summer, all shows are presented outside. We always brought Quasi with us, as we sat on the grass. He loved it-warm grass, Pap (my dad) feeding him homemade popcorn, my other brother, his girlfriend, Quasi’s Buela (my mom) and I taking turns petting him. During “Arabian Nights,” Quasi realized it was his Uncle up on stage making all the noise (Quasi HATED yelling…I suspect it had something to do with his previous owners) and so Quasi decided to tell him about it, doing the Griff yodel in the middle of the performance. Later, my brother told me “I NEARLY BROKE CHARACTER TO LAUGH!”
It was impossible not to love my little man. Most of the time, he was a serene snoozer and expert cuddler. I took him to middle school sporting events with me, and he let all of my students hold him, pet him, tell him "he's so ugly he's cute!" and kiss his adorable self. Occasionally, he let his inner puppy out and caused all to smile, laugh, and tell me how lucky I was to have been adopted by such a wonderful dog.
Believe me, I already knew.
He’d been neglected, mistreated, ignored, and allowed to fall apart. Somehow, he was resilient, as if he knew that the universe wound be bringing me to him soon. For my part, a personal loss left me empty and needing something to love that wanted nothing more from me than unconditional love in return. I knew I wanted an older dog who needed a home, preferably with an under-bite. A snorer would be nothing more than a much wanted plus. And, there he was, looking up at me, wondering where I’d been his whole life. I was wondering the same thing.
In the year and a half since that September day, the little guy blossomed. He went from silently cowering just out of the room to joyfully and noisily skittering around the room, especially the kitchen. The first night I made dinner when he was with me in his forever home, he stayed outside of the kitchen, his eyes looking at me as if he did not know what to think or do but he wasn’t taking them off me, in case it was all just a dream. The last night I made dinner when he was with me in his forever home, he hung out only a few feet away, watching me dance around to Taylor Swift’s “Mine,” which I always sang to him. His sister, my shih tzu, begged shamelessly, but Quasi was smarter. He just waited until I set something down in front of him. As a result, he got the better of the table scraps during the six months I was blessed with two babies.
Quasi feared small children, and barked at my housemate’s young son. We spent a good number of hours last spring trying to convince Quasi that the gentle little boy wouldn’t hurt him, but with no luck. One night in May, a friend of mine was on his way to visit for a couple of days. I was sound asleep, a nightlight on so my friend could see his way around when he arrived. My friend was never a quiet person, and I woke up enough to see him come in my room. Quasi, who barked if a child got within ten yards of me, took one look at the 6’2” All American standing in my room, snorted, and went right back to sleep. I'm thankful it wasn't a robber or a rapist waltzing into my room, because my little Griff would have been no help. The next morning, he got up on the bed with my friend, curled up next to him, and the two of them tried very hard to convince me that noon was way too early to be awake.
He loved, like all Griffs, to lay in the sun and soak up rays. He spent last summer with me at my parents’ house, taking full advantage of their front porch. When he decided he was ready to go in the house, he did that classic Griff head back yoddle, barking at my father and then looking right at the house. My parents were wrapped around his little paws. My brothers, neither of whom cared for indoor dogs, took turns carrying him around, telling him what a great dog he was. My younger brother’s catch phrase was “Mr. Modo, do I find you well?” before picking my baby up and carrying him off. My brother’s girlfriend picked him up and I didn’t get him back until she left. If Quasi saw Auntie, his entire butt began doing the happy wiggle.
My youngest brother is a theater major, and during the summer, all shows are presented outside. We always brought Quasi with us, as we sat on the grass. He loved it-warm grass, Pap (my dad) feeding him homemade popcorn, my other brother, his girlfriend, Quasi’s Buela (my mom) and I taking turns petting him. During “Arabian Nights,” Quasi realized it was his Uncle up on stage making all the noise (Quasi HATED yelling…I suspect it had something to do with his previous owners) and so Quasi decided to tell him about it, doing the Griff yodel in the middle of the performance. Later, my brother told me “I NEARLY BROKE CHARACTER TO LAUGH!”
It was impossible not to love my little man. Most of the time, he was a serene snoozer and expert cuddler. I took him to middle school sporting events with me, and he let all of my students hold him, pet him, tell him "he's so ugly he's cute!" and kiss his adorable self. Occasionally, he let his inner puppy out and caused all to smile, laugh, and tell me how lucky I was to have been adopted by such a wonderful dog.
Believe me, I already knew.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
FRAMILY
I want to write about something that is very near and dear to me today: Framily.
Many of you might be asking why an English major insists on lumping two words together, but it's the best description I can come up with. Framily= Friends + Family, and it is a concept I have grown to cherish even more in my adult years since leaving Michigan, though it was important to me in childhood as well. For the purposes of this blog not being the length of War and Peace, I am going to limit my musing on framily to just the one in Kansas.
First of all, I have to say that I'm the lucky Michigan transplant-my mom is from out here and I have family two hours in any direction. That being said, I still elected to live in a "commune" with 5 other Michigan teachers in an old historical home we promptly named the Michigan House. The house then made the "New teacher" tour the following year! W00T! In this house was another Kappa Delta from Valpraiso, a couple of GVSU grads, one of the GVSU's sisters and her wife, all of whom had know the KD since childhood. We settled into a routine and built relationships with each other. One Sunday, a few of the Michigan external friends ended up at the house for breakfast...wheat pancakes, left over cheese enchiladas, scrambled eggs, and beer. This tradition came to be known as "Family Breakfast." Framily are the people who come to your house on Sundays, sit around with you, discuss classrooms and lives, over left over enchiladas-and keep the tradition alive to this day (though we're on hiatus). Framily are the people who call you when their alternator is finally dead, and you drive them all over Garden for almost two hours, helping them get the part and then have it installed at a back door operation for cheap. Framily are the people who come with you to your grandmother's four hours away and enjoy the whole trip. Framily are the people you have spur of the moment cook out withs, the roommates you combine resources with to make a full meal instead of one part of a meal. Framily are the people who make you a fruit pizza for your birthday and make sure you drink an entire bottle of wine AND get home. Framily are the people who sit next to you in church, for whom you babysit on a Friday night for free, the people who watch your dogs for you for nothing more than a thank you. Framily are the people who help you change out the bulbs on your car and charge you nothing more than a thank you, the people whose own families offer to do your house inspection for you for nothing more than a thank you. In short, "Framily" are the family you choose, the people who make your day to day life worth living.
I love mine!
Many of you might be asking why an English major insists on lumping two words together, but it's the best description I can come up with. Framily= Friends + Family, and it is a concept I have grown to cherish even more in my adult years since leaving Michigan, though it was important to me in childhood as well. For the purposes of this blog not being the length of War and Peace, I am going to limit my musing on framily to just the one in Kansas.
First of all, I have to say that I'm the lucky Michigan transplant-my mom is from out here and I have family two hours in any direction. That being said, I still elected to live in a "commune" with 5 other Michigan teachers in an old historical home we promptly named the Michigan House. The house then made the "New teacher" tour the following year! W00T! In this house was another Kappa Delta from Valpraiso, a couple of GVSU grads, one of the GVSU's sisters and her wife, all of whom had know the KD since childhood. We settled into a routine and built relationships with each other. One Sunday, a few of the Michigan external friends ended up at the house for breakfast...wheat pancakes, left over cheese enchiladas, scrambled eggs, and beer. This tradition came to be known as "Family Breakfast." Framily are the people who come to your house on Sundays, sit around with you, discuss classrooms and lives, over left over enchiladas-and keep the tradition alive to this day (though we're on hiatus). Framily are the people who call you when their alternator is finally dead, and you drive them all over Garden for almost two hours, helping them get the part and then have it installed at a back door operation for cheap. Framily are the people who come with you to your grandmother's four hours away and enjoy the whole trip. Framily are the people you have spur of the moment cook out withs, the roommates you combine resources with to make a full meal instead of one part of a meal. Framily are the people who make you a fruit pizza for your birthday and make sure you drink an entire bottle of wine AND get home. Framily are the people who sit next to you in church, for whom you babysit on a Friday night for free, the people who watch your dogs for you for nothing more than a thank you. Framily are the people who help you change out the bulbs on your car and charge you nothing more than a thank you, the people whose own families offer to do your house inspection for you for nothing more than a thank you. In short, "Framily" are the family you choose, the people who make your day to day life worth living.
I love mine!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
It's Official!
Today, I signed up for my first 5K.
It's not that big of a deal-just a 5K here for the Pregnancy center. It's on a Saturday I have off from Forensics. It's in mid-April, so I have just over two months to bust my own butt into shape. I don't care what my time is. I care if I finish, which I will, even if I'm just barely still jogging the whole way across the finish line and collapse at the end, crying and panting (and you'd better believe that'll be what I look like). I'm excited and pumped, but terrified, too.
Here we go!
It's not that big of a deal-just a 5K here for the Pregnancy center. It's on a Saturday I have off from Forensics. It's in mid-April, so I have just over two months to bust my own butt into shape. I don't care what my time is. I care if I finish, which I will, even if I'm just barely still jogging the whole way across the finish line and collapse at the end, crying and panting (and you'd better believe that'll be what I look like). I'm excited and pumped, but terrified, too.
Here we go!
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
The Second Run
I'm not sure I fully understood the power of a good running mix until this morning. Sure, I've always preferred to listen to music while working out, but today, the music was what pushed me. I have a "Workout" mix on my iPod, along with my "in class" mix, my "feel good" mix, and my "breakup" mix (hmm....meant to take that off a while ago...). My workout mix is anything with a beat that makes me want to pound the pavement (treadmill, it's -40 here today with the windchill) or get up and MOVE. It's songs that inspire me to push and push harder. It's songs that remind me of people and times that I want to reclaim, or people and times that I'm better because I got rid of. I go from Shania Twain to Britney Spears to "Standing Outside the Fire" to anything quick by Glee. Heck, I have Darren Criss' "No Way" on there. My feet pound out a rhythm: Ash-LY. Ash-LY. It reminds me why I'm busting my butt on this machine when I could doing...well...ANYTHING else. I went a little bit farther today (just .06 overall, but that means I upped my running pace just a small amount). I sweated just a little bit more today. I did, however, hate it just a little bit more today. Dad tells me day three is the hardest and that it'll get better. My sunshine buddy tells me it's all mental-well, that's certainly true! Though I do have to say I love how loose my back gets after a run, and I can actually twist and move and feel things readjusting themselves the way they should.
I'm sure that the above paragraph could be shortened quite a bit, but today is an extreme weather today. So I don't care. I'm not an English teacher today. I'm just a couch potato, an elliptical nut, training to run. I hate it while I'm doing it, but I remind myself that I'm at least here and able to do it. Once I'm off the treadmill, I look forward to going back for another round.
I guess I should now tackle the stack of homework that is threatening to bite me. I remember this part of college-death by text book. I remember how when I couldn't deal with another thought going through my head, I could walk up those three stairs, through the double doors that separated third west from third west central, past Cutcher's suite, and collapse onto the futon of a girl who was always a friend. Sometimes we'd go cook, sometimes we'd just lay there and let our brains rest. Well, now she's here, telling me to get up, take all that Albion wisdom, and get moving. I hear you, I hear you! I'm going, I'm going...
I'm sure that the above paragraph could be shortened quite a bit, but today is an extreme weather today. So I don't care. I'm not an English teacher today. I'm just a couch potato, an elliptical nut, training to run. I hate it while I'm doing it, but I remind myself that I'm at least here and able to do it. Once I'm off the treadmill, I look forward to going back for another round.
I guess I should now tackle the stack of homework that is threatening to bite me. I remember this part of college-death by text book. I remember how when I couldn't deal with another thought going through my head, I could walk up those three stairs, through the double doors that separated third west from third west central, past Cutcher's suite, and collapse onto the futon of a girl who was always a friend. Sometimes we'd go cook, sometimes we'd just lay there and let our brains rest. Well, now she's here, telling me to get up, take all that Albion wisdom, and get moving. I hear you, I hear you! I'm going, I'm going...
Monday, January 31, 2011
I Wasn't Aware Being a Teacher was "Pathetic"
Well.
I'll be the first to say that I'm not my own biggest fan. I struggle with things and frankly, I'm far too ditzy to be allowed in public sometimes. But, upon reflection, I also realize that I am quite accomplished compared to about 99% of my peers. The deal is, I hang out with the same 1% I'm in, so it's harder to see.
I have yet to have a baby out of wedlock, become addicted to drugs, wreck my car, declare bankruptcy, flunk out of school, etc etc etc. No, I'm not married-forgive me. 25 years old and unmarried OH NO! It's not like I haven't thought about it, but I refuse to believe that the only mark that a women has had a productive life is by a ring on her finger and a man in her bed every night. Marriage will be nice, someday, I think, but until the time is right, I'm not going to stress about the fact that my ring finger is empty and my only bed mate is Quasi.
I have a college degree-TWO, in fact, and I'm starting to get my masters. I work a full time job and pay all my own bills like a big girl. I cook and clean up after myself, do my own laundry, and own my own car. I set my own schedule, hang out with my friends, and enjoy my life. True, I'm overweight, but I can always lose weight.
The student today who, trying to insult his peer, said "you're going to end up like our reading teacher someday" does not seem to understand any of this. I know, deep down, that "ending up like Ms. Bates" isn't an insult, but when I called him on what he said and he couldn't explain himself, I now just feel insulted and belittled. I didn't go into this profession to have my ego stroked, but fuck it. I do have feelings.
I'll be the first to say that I'm not my own biggest fan. I struggle with things and frankly, I'm far too ditzy to be allowed in public sometimes. But, upon reflection, I also realize that I am quite accomplished compared to about 99% of my peers. The deal is, I hang out with the same 1% I'm in, so it's harder to see.
I have yet to have a baby out of wedlock, become addicted to drugs, wreck my car, declare bankruptcy, flunk out of school, etc etc etc. No, I'm not married-forgive me. 25 years old and unmarried OH NO! It's not like I haven't thought about it, but I refuse to believe that the only mark that a women has had a productive life is by a ring on her finger and a man in her bed every night. Marriage will be nice, someday, I think, but until the time is right, I'm not going to stress about the fact that my ring finger is empty and my only bed mate is Quasi.
I have a college degree-TWO, in fact, and I'm starting to get my masters. I work a full time job and pay all my own bills like a big girl. I cook and clean up after myself, do my own laundry, and own my own car. I set my own schedule, hang out with my friends, and enjoy my life. True, I'm overweight, but I can always lose weight.
The student today who, trying to insult his peer, said "you're going to end up like our reading teacher someday" does not seem to understand any of this. I know, deep down, that "ending up like Ms. Bates" isn't an insult, but when I called him on what he said and he couldn't explain himself, I now just feel insulted and belittled. I didn't go into this profession to have my ego stroked, but fuck it. I do have feelings.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
The first Mile
How often do I bark at my students to stop whining, buck up, and just get the work done?
Yeah, I can't count that high, either.
So, I figured it was time to walk the walk. I have had "Run a marathon" sitting ominously on my bucket list since Charity Ball, 2007. After the death of my friend Ashly to leukemia on 1/7/11, I have decided it's time to put my money where my mouth is and get started.
Not to pump this blog full of cliches, but Chicago wasn't built in a day and you don't go from avid couch potato/Zumba enthusiast to marathon runner overnight. I'm not sure you even do it in a year. However, a 5K does not seem unreasonable as a first goal, so that's where I'm going to start. I'm sort of looking for one in Denver or DC over Easter weekend, and maybe one of the guys that Ashly and I worked with will want to fun it with me-after all, running the marathon to begin with was his brilliant idea. If you're interested in keeping track of my progress, this is where I'm logging it at: http://runkeeper.com/user/laniegirl11/profile
I think I could come to like running, if I stick with it now, just like I tell my students to stick with it between now and graduation. I know those 4.5 years seem like an eternity to some of them. If they can push and make that battle, I can battle through three workouts a week that make me want to throw myself off a bridge.
For Ashly.
Now, tips on getting rid of the soreness would be welcome...YEOUCH!!
Lanie
Yeah, I can't count that high, either.
So, I figured it was time to walk the walk. I have had "Run a marathon" sitting ominously on my bucket list since Charity Ball, 2007. After the death of my friend Ashly to leukemia on 1/7/11, I have decided it's time to put my money where my mouth is and get started.
Not to pump this blog full of cliches, but Chicago wasn't built in a day and you don't go from avid couch potato/Zumba enthusiast to marathon runner overnight. I'm not sure you even do it in a year. However, a 5K does not seem unreasonable as a first goal, so that's where I'm going to start. I'm sort of looking for one in Denver or DC over Easter weekend, and maybe one of the guys that Ashly and I worked with will want to fun it with me-after all, running the marathon to begin with was his brilliant idea. If you're interested in keeping track of my progress, this is where I'm logging it at: http://runkeeper.com/user/laniegirl11/profile
I think I could come to like running, if I stick with it now, just like I tell my students to stick with it between now and graduation. I know those 4.5 years seem like an eternity to some of them. If they can push and make that battle, I can battle through three workouts a week that make me want to throw myself off a bridge.
For Ashly.
Now, tips on getting rid of the soreness would be welcome...YEOUCH!!
Lanie
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